


When the World Comes Crashing Down

by 401



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Battle, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Death, Grief/Mourning, Heartbreaking, I'm Sorry, M/M, Mild Gore, Protective Natasha Romanov, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Suicidal Thoughts, Tears
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 17:29:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8219251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/401/pseuds/401
Summary: A battle goes wrong, and Bucky feels the world come crashing down.





	

For a moment, time stood still.

Bucky felt the shockwave before he saw the explosion of blue light. It dragged him back a few inches before slamming him to the ground, but he was only in its slipstream. Steve had been right in front of it.

With ringing ears and dust-filled eyes, he navigated his way numbly through the rubble that the laser had left in its path, another jagged scar in the tarmac of the already brutalised streets of Washington.

The battle had been going on since the early morning, a group of Hydra militants who had somehow slipped under the radar for years, enabling them to perfect technology and build up their workforce. They had struck without warning, and without reason. The Avengers Initiative had had no choice but to go into action again.

“N-no,” Bucky choked out, easing himself onto his feet but falling again, “Steve, get up. Come one, get up.”

Steve was staring straight up at the sky above him. Shock and pain painted his face in a way that Bucky had never seen before. His breaths were coming shallow and fast, rattling on the exhale and wheezing on the inhale.

 _Fluid_ Bucky thought, _full of fluid._

“Come on, doll,” Bucky panted out, dragging himself to Steve’s side, “Don’t do this to me, deep breaths.”  


Steve shook his head.

“I can’t,” He coughed out, “I don’t…”  


He coughed again, this time worse. Thick crimson spilled out of both corners of his mouth and ran down his cheeks, dripping back onto the obliterated concrete beneath him. There was a deep gash on the side of his head, painting the blonde hair sticky brown as it dried and congealed around his ears. His left arm looked lower than the right, dislocated at the shoulder, but it was his stomach that had Bucky fighting not to lose control. There was a hole in his uniform about the size of a billiard ball, singed around the edges and drenched with blood. With every laboured breath, more bubbled out.

“I need help over here!” Bucky shouted, “He’s losing it pints at a time.”

He saw Nat pause and then respond, her face instantly struck with a panic that was quite uncharacteristic of her. She nodded and sprinted off into the chaos.

“Come here,” Steve sighed, squeezing Bucky’s arm, “Don’t go anywhere, please.”

“I’m right here,” Bucky reassured, lifting Steve’s head onto his lap gently.

The battle waned around them, and Bucky couldn’t care less. More grenades went off, more of Hydra were taken down, people continued to fight. He couldn’t hear it over the thrumming fear in his own head. Pictures came thick and fast, memories, anything he could cling onto ran through his mind. It was film on a rewinding tape, over and over it clicked in and out of focus behind his eyes, showing him distorted and bastardized versions of once chronological thoughts. It was a mess, as much as a mess at the scene playing out in front of him like some sick dream.

“Keep breathing, Stevie. Keep trying, I know it hurts. Nat’s gone to get help, you’re going to be okay,” He rambled

Steve closed his eyes and winced. His lips were turning from pink to blue.

“Tell her to keep fighting,” Steve ordered, “They need her.”  


Bucky shook his head, deflecting a piece of shrapnel with his left hand.

“Bucky, do as I say!” Steve choked, more blood running from his nose.

“Nat, HURRY!” Bucky shouted again, unsure of where to look.

Steve grabbed the side of his face and turned him to face him. His eyes were watery and glazed, losing focus every few moments, following Bucky’s eyes one minute and battling with the haze around him the next. There was no colour left in his cheeks besides what was plastered on with dry blood and ash.

“I just need you to try for me, Steve,” Bucky whispered, tears starting to roll down his face, cutting tracks in the soot and dust.

Steve smiled weakly. He wished for words, but none came; just more pain and less air. He wanted to say something, _anything_ that was reassuring but there was nothing. Bucky had been lied to enough.

“I love you, Bucky,” Steve said quietly, “You know that I love you?”

Bucky nodded. He glanced at the wound on Steve’s stomach. The blood was slowing, coming in lazy, irregular pulses now, so little pressure behind them that it didn’t even spill, just welled up and sunk again.

“Don’t do this,” Bucky begged, “Please don’t go.”

“You’ve done so well,” Steve continued, “I’m so proud of you, you’ve done so well.”  


Bucky shook his head desperately and pulled Steve closer, pushing the sweat-matted hair off of his forehead and pressing his lips to it, praying to any God that would listen to stop time again, make everything stall until they could get help, fix everything.

“Don’t forget why we do this, “Steve slurred, his eyes flicking shut for a moment, “Why we keep fighting.”

His breathing was speeding up, less rhythm and more jagged, shallow speed.

It reminded Bucky of a day when they were kids, they must have only been eight or nine. Bucky had found a kitten behind a fence. It was stiff with cold and deathly thin, it’s fur thinning in patches and one eye fogged over. He had known that he couldn’t have saved it, even if his Ma had let him try, so he had sat with the poor thing on his lap until the little puffs of breath shaking its tiny chest had slowed to nothing.

“Please,” Bucky sobbed, tears coming uncontrollably now, “You need to hold on, just for a minute. I’m begging you, Stevie.”

“We always knew it would end with something like this,” Steve smiled, doing his best to stroke Bucky’s cheek with a numb, heavy hand, “Gotta’ let go at the end of the line, baby.”

Steve’s breathing hitched, a hiccup of blocked air flow and fluid where there should be none. Bucky rubbed Steve’s chest to try and coax back the rhythm, but nothing changed.

“No,” he gasped, “No, no, no, not yet.”  


He laid Steve flat and started chest compressions, counting in his head and sobbing out encouragements that felt like they were carried off by some invisible force, like a nightmare where all of your screams fall silent and your tongue turns to lead.

Bucky blew a firm puff of air in to Steve’s mouth, feeling no give and tasting blood.

“Come on, Steve, you’re not done God dammit. You’re not ready to go,” he mumbled, continuing with the compressions desperately.

Sam walked up behind them slowly.

“Oh my God,” He whispered to himself, breaking into a jog.

“Bucky,” Sam said quietly, “Nat got hit, she couldn’t get any back up.”

Bucky ignored him, continuing with the torturous rhythm. He felt a rib crack under his fingers. Sam watched as Steve’s chest stayed stock still under Bucky’s hands, no rising, no falling. The bleeding from the side of his head had stopped completely.

“Come on, man,” Sam soothed, trying to ease Bucky away, “Come on, it’s over, brother. He’s gone.”

Bucky threw back his elbow, striking Sam square in the throat and sending him reeling back.

“NO!” He shouted, his voice cracking around his words.

“Steve, _please,”_ He sobbed out, stopping the chest compressions and falling forward against the Captain, his hands covered in his blood and trembling.

The battle fell to a close, the sun setting deep orange in the torn streets around them. Car alarms still wailed, the wind still blew and military personnel still shouted orders, but to Bucky, everything was silent.

Nothing could be heard over the sound of his world crashing to the ground.

.

 

 


End file.
